


Always You.

by cityofstarsss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bands, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Drama, Dunkirk, Fluff, Harry Styles - Freeform, Heartbreak, I'm Sorry, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, Love, M/M, Poor Harry, Tears, Tours, basically Louis rejects Harrys love but he actually loves him?, larry stylinson - Freeform, the boy's families - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10452315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityofstarsss/pseuds/cityofstarsss
Summary: “So, what do you want to talk about?”Harry dreaded this question. Louis seemed so content, so curious, so happy. He had no idea what exactly Harry was about to ask. He could see it in his face. The way his eyes glistened with that casual liveliness that his youthful features held. His stomach was turning, palms sweating, nausea flooding through his current state and the back of his throat.“Harry?”The younger boy finally looked down, gripping the thick material of the thick, grey hoodie hugging his buff torso – gaze attempting to distract themselves from the unbearable question that was haunting him.“It’s serious.” Harry finally said, weakly lifting his more nervous set of eyes back at his best friend. The boy he loved. The boy who had no bloody idea what he was about to say.Louis’ brows furrowed with concern, quite evidently caring about his best friend. All Harry had to convince himself was that Louis was about to agree and feel the same about what he was about to say. “Go on, Harry. I’ll listen.”“I love you.”Summary: Harry admits he loves Louis. Louis doesn't (or does he?) Boys go on a hiatus. Louis calls a year later. Dramatic, angsty and slkfjnskdjfljfl. Basically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be added weekly! I'll try for every Sunday. :-)
> 
> My twitter is @pinkteaharry 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. xx

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

 

Harry dreaded this question. Louis seemed so content, so curious, so _happy._ He had no idea what exactly Harry was about to ask. He could see it in his face. The way his eyes glistened with that casual liveliness that his youthful features held. His stomach was turning, palms sweating, nausea flooding through his current state and the back of his throat.

 

“Harry?”

 

The younger boy finally looked down, gripping the thick material of the thick, grey hoodie hugging his buff torso – gaze attempting to distract themselves from the unbearable question that was haunting him.

 

“It’s serious.” Harry finally said, weakly lifting his more nervous set of eyes back at his best friend. The boy he loved. The boy who had no bloody idea what he was about to say.

 

Louis’ brows furrowed with concern, quite evidently caring about his best friend. All Harry had to convince himself was that Louis was about to agree and feel the same about what he was about to say. “Go on, Harry. I’ll listen.”

 

“I love you.”

 

Louis paused. His face expressed confusion – a sudden giggle falling from the elder’s lips, shaking his head. “I love you too, Haz. You know that.”

 

Harry’s jaw clenched then, the eighteen year old’s gaze flickering back up at Louis now – teeth sinking anxiously into his plump bottom lip, nearly piercing blood.

 

“No, I… I-I mean I _really_ love you.”

 

“What?” Louis’ face was expressing concern now, evident confusion, disbelief and slight fear – an unsure laugh following. “You… are you fucking around with me?”

 

Harry could feel a lump form at the back of his throat, face going pale. Tears brimmed his youthful, innocent eyes with genuine worry now. He had to shake his head, blinking the tears away rather furiously. “No… I-I…. I’m being honest, Lou..” Voice breaking now.

 

Louis sat up straighter, taking Harry’s wrist to get his friend to look back at him, eyebrows furrowing in anger and confusion, shaking his head slowly. “W-what? Harry? Like.. you _like_ me?”

 

Harry pursed his lips, giving a faint nod of his head as he stared back at Louis, slowly becoming so small. He didn’t want to feel within this moment. He was receiving the completely wrong reaction – it was bloody well terrifying.

 

“Yes, Louis! I do.. I-I do… Fuck, mate, I really, _really_ love you,” Harry’s rasped voice broke off at the last syllables, face falling when Louis suddenly stood up from the sofa, a certain glint in his eyes that expressed confusion, _fear_.

 

“Harry.. I… No _…_ This… It’s not right. I don’t like you that way.. is this, are you taking this whole Larry Stylinson thing real? I.. I can’t. No. Harry, I’m _not_ gay.” Louis’ voice was defensive, fearful, filled with immense shock. Harry could definitely tell that he made a wrong move now.

 

“Louis I really, really-“

 

“-No! Harry. No. It’s not happening.. I don’t like you that way. You need to figure this out yourself, okay? I’m.. I’m just not..”

 

Harry’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.. I just thought.. This _was_ genuine, everything between you and I-“

 

“-No. Harry. It was never.. okay? Let’s just… We won’t ever speak about this again. Okay?”

 

“Okay..” It came out as a mere whisper, his words simply dissolving in the bitter, tentative air between them. The room felt tense. It felt as if the walls were closing in and his throat was slowly running dry.

 

Louis just shook his head slowly, sitting up from the sofa he was perched on in their living room – wandering off to what Harry assumed was upstairs. Then, he knew. He just bloody _knew_ it was never going to be the same again.

 

 

-

 

 

Time passed like rivers flow. Harry felt not only lost within himself, but lost all around. It all seemed as though it didn’t matter, like what he said was irrelevant. Take Me Home tour started and things were complicated. Louis evidently had no desire to spend time with him, and it was hard to resist touching and communicating on stage. It was like they were strangers, foreign. It was hard – Louis seemed to be jealous, though. He didn’t like the others boys touching him, being near him. It was confusing, baffling. Eleanor got dragged into the picture and suddenly, life seemed like a massive mess. Harry couldn’t stand it. He knew Eleanor was a beard too – that was the worst part. It was to protect Louis’ ‘image’ as stated by management. As depressed as he looked, Harry watched Louis compel and agree to do so.

 

‘Don’t Let Me Go’. Yes, it was about Louis. Harry had to. The words spilt from the ink into the paper desperately – helplessly. The song was his emotions poured onto paper, filled with immense feelings, his heartache. “ _Don’t let me go, cause I’m tired of feeling alone….”_

 

 

-

 

 

Where We Are tour. Things didn’t seem to get much better, but Harry knew he had to let go. Louis _wasn’t_ his. He didn’t want to have any part of Harry. He ignored him on stage all together, with the odd interactions here and there. Louis got really close with Zayn and Harry felt baffled – he changed so much. He changed for the worst. Drugs, smoking, alcohol. It wasn’t like him, and even though Louis had always been a bit of the party animal, this wasn’t like him. Meanwhile, Zayn was beginning to show absence. Harry could tell he wasn’t enjoying this very much. The other lads noticed too, and he worried.

 

 

-

 

 

On The Road Again. Zayn left. Louis seemed more tentative about being there, and the boys were stirred up. What were they going to do? Harry’s heart wrenched. Missing Louis was only growing more and more prominent. Throughout the years, at any time possible, his lyrics resonated with what Harry was convinced was his and Louis’ ‘relationship’. What he felt was true. Heartache, pain, it was hidden. Louis rejected him. Music was all he knew. Amazed about the fans, Harry was outrageously happy for the amount of fans that still believed in both himself and Louis – it left him hopeful. But, if they only knew. If they only knew.

 

Then, it happened. They called for a hiatus starting  January of 2016.

 

“What?” Harry blinked thrice, brows furrowing in mere shock as the others exchanged glances.

 

“We should.. boys, we _need_ it.” Louis stated, glancing at the others around him, eyes lingering on Harry momentarily.

 

“I kind of agree. I mean… we can all work on some solo stuff, yeah? Replenish ourselves? We deserve the rest. All this touring and everything.. I don’t want what happened with Zayn to happen to another one of us.” Liam added.

 

So, they agreed. Harry knew Niall also didn’t want to take this break, both were content with it. But, perhaps they did need it.

 

Baby Gate. Harry thought it was ridiculous in the first place. Genuinely, he didn’t see the reasoning in going through so much pain and trouble just to prove a god damn image of yourself.

 

What was Louis doing with himself? Why was he doing this? Harry felt deep down Louis lied to him that day. He felt almost as if Louis wasn’t what he said he was, and that what they had _was_ real. Why? Because he never looked at anyone else the way he looked at Harry. He never laughed as hard as he did with Harry, he never looked so _happy_ with anyone else but Harry. Why, _why_ was he doing this.

 

 

-

 

_2016_

 

Harry was amazed. Casted for a movie, filming was starting, started planning for his album and that – that was amazing. He spent a lot of his time in his home alone, writing music, composing it. Helplessly, a majority of it was definitely about Louis. The situation and his love fit so depressingly perfect within poems, he could turn it into a masterpiece. Art. It was his only way with handling with this all.

 

They all were dropped from Syco, finally. Except for Louis. Harry merely laughed sadly when he heard that. It didn’t make sense, not even the smallest bit. He still had to compel to the rules, the beards, and worst of all – Simon Cowell. Harry strongly opposed that man. It was one thing to deal with business, but to treat people as if they are dollar signs instead of individuals was another thing.

 

He filmed Dunkirk, did his album, and now – he had time. Time to relax. What confused him the most, was that Louis never called. Never texted. Never even bothered to say a word. His stomach twisted at the mere realization of not having this boy in his life anymore – and coming into  terms with this sick reality was hard, it was dreadful. Especially since he felt like it wasn’t necessary.

 

 

-

 

 

_December 9 th, 2016. _

 

 

Louis’ mum passed away. Harry’s heart crumbled, it fell. He called him twenty times that morning, having his call declined each time. Days leading up, Harry visited Johanna and the girls to help in any way that he could. Louis, however, wasn’t there.

 

Days later, Harry was sat in his home. Curled up on the sofa and his gaze pondered on the television screen before him – not quite paying attention to the film that was currently playing, but more of his thoughts.

 

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

Harry’s gaze darted over to his phone that was on the coffee table, and his brows immediately furrowed.

 

No. It couldn’t be.

Louis. It was Louis calling.

 

Harry’s face dropped, his stomach nearly collapsing within itself as he shakily reached over to retrieve his phone, swiping the screen to answer it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Harry? Harry.. I… I need to ask you for a favour.”


	2. “Harry? Harry.. I… I need to ask you for a favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, I've got exams. x This series will be in full swing starting next week! Yiiiippppiiieee. x If you would like to follow me on twitter (I love mutuals..) you can find me at @pinkteaharry x 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Harry? Harry.. I… I need to ask you for a favor.”

 

Harry nearly dropped the phone. His stomach felt as though it dropped one hundred feet because _fuck_. After ignoring all this calls this past year, even when the boy’s mum passed, Louis ignored them all. Everything. He didn’t even acknowledge how tight his grip was on the phone in his hands – clutching it as though it was his life.

 

“Yes?”

 

Harry’s voice came out unbelievably quiet – his voice sounding so small, so vulnerable. He despised it, but the lump in his throat wasn’t going to allow proper sentences right now.

 

“I need someone.” The voice on the other line was weak, heavy, drawn out – it expressed some sort of brokenness that sounded merely impossible to stitch up. _Ouch_. And it was Louis. The Louis that ignored him for so long, and now, here he was. On the phone with the boy who broke his heart.

 

Harry gripped the phone tightly, fists appearing white from the withering grip. What? What was that? Why now? Why bloody now? The questions flooded Harry’s mind like a flood, washing away any other mere thought or piercing pain that was evident in his mind. Why?

 

“Why?”

 

“Because-“ Louis’ voice broke off on the other line by a stifled breath, evidently sounding as though he was avoiding the urge to cry. “-I.. It’s too much right now.. I..”

 

“Why me?” Harry’s voice sounded slightly defensive, hesitant. It was confusing. Why not his other mates? Why not the other lads?

 

“Harry,” The voice sounded desperate now, “ _please.”_

 

The younger lad dropped his head, eyes clenching shut suddenly as he heard the desperation, the weakness in Louis’ slowly withering voice – it being on the verge of breaking apart. It was his weakness. He felt sickened to know Louis was feeling this way.

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Harry couldn’t comprehend the idea. The mere idea that Louis event wanted his company, let alone _needed_ him was baffling. Their relationship was toxic since Harry confessed his feelings. Louis emphasized greatly just how much he didn’t like Harry that way.

 

Well, maybe Louis still didn’t. Maybe he just needed a friend. Right? Maybe.

 

The drive wasn’t quite familiar. In fact, he never actually visited Louis’ flat that was just inside England – located just around Sheffield. Of course, anywhere in England meant the drive was pretty much going to be beautiful, so he didn’t complain. It just didn’t the least bit settle his nerves. He couldn’t stop thinking about Louis. It was also such a quick, awkward phone call – he genuinely didn’t know what to expect.

 

When he pulled up to the address Louis texted him – Harry’s gaze pondered on the flat. It was guarded by large, antique, white gates that, rightfully so, stood protectively around the decently sized flat. It had similar features to their previous home, before Louis insisted that they split apart and move in separately. It had a mahogany and rustic look to it – the modern styles masked by the brick and wood elements on the outside. He was sure it looked much nicer when the sun was out, but it was currently seven in the evening. Good luck seeing much through the bleak moonlight and bland streetlights. 

 

Still dressed in his grey joggers, the same damn grey jumper he had been wearing the past two weeks (he loved it, what could he say?) and hair tucked back in a beanie – Harry approached the gate and was just about to buzz when they suddenly clicked, allowing Harry in. He blinked a few times, inhaling sharply before driving past the welcoming doors.

 

Harry parked right in the empty driveway, the house positioned on a hill, allowing you to see the gorgeous skyline from up on his porch. It was beautiful. Harry could only sigh though, the sick feeling becoming more prominent in his gut. Was this even a good idea? Probably not. He doubted it. His feelings were probably bound to be fucked around with. Louis hadn’t acknowledged him for the past bloody year, and barely spoke to him the previous two – he was irrelevant in his life.

 

Harry gripped his keys tightly, taking careful strides up the cement pavement, frost coating the grass surrounding him. It was December, after all.

 

Then, he faced the doorbell. Harry’s eyes pondered on the lit, orange button and hesitantly reached up, his index finger pressing against it within a swift movement. He could hear the doorbell from outside, so he took a single step back, hands folded in front of him.

 

Then, painfully slow, his striking green eyes met the familiar figure of the twenty four year old lad. Broken, exhausted, and tear stained cheeks. He was _not_ okay. Harry’s expression scrunched up in confusion and heartbreak, mouth opening but not a word escaping.

 

“Come in,” Louis’ quiet voice spoke, his smaller figure taking a step back to open the door further, allowing Harry inside.

 

Harry entered the boy’s flat, and his gaze immediately met the large entrance that followed into his very modern, bland home – empty beer bottles and paper scraps scattered around the flat. Splendid.

 

“Sorry for the mess.” Louis spoke quietly, almost out of instinct. When they lived together, Harry always lectured him for being so messy, it only made sense for him to mention it.

 

“That’s okay.” Harry’s voice was equally quiet, pursing his lips as he glanced back at Louis, who was just closing the door.

 

“Thank you, Harry.. for coming, really.” Louis murmured in a weak voice, stumbling over his feet slightly as he wondered back into his living room – taking a seat on the sofa and retrieving a bottle of beer again, taking a long swig from the bottle. His lips released from the base of the bottle with a hitched breath, closing his eyes almost painfully for a moment. “Make yourself at home, mate.” He breathed.

 

Harry slowly wandered over to the sofa opposite of Louis, slowly taking a seat on the soft, almost suede material – hands tucked mindlessly in his lap as he gazed back at Louis with intent eyes. “Don’t thank me.” Harry murmured in a mere whisper, sighing. Shit. This was going to be hard.

 

Louis noticed his tone and body language, the air between them appearing thick and tense. It wasn’t the littlest bit appealing. It was almost suffocating, and Harry just wanted to scream. Bloody well scream. ‘Why now!? Why fucking now!?’ but, he didn’t. Instead, his gaze fixated on the bottle in Louis’ hand before flickering back up to meet his lifeless, bland gaze. “I’m sorry about your mum.” He whispered.

 

The expression on Louis’ face changed into what looked to be an emotional mess, lips twitching up into a sad, almost depressed looking smile. Tears lingered on the crisp of his eyes, quickly blinking them away with a breathless chuckle. “Fuck. I..” Louis’ gaze fell, and suddenly, he was crumbling. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, what looked to be regret. “It’s hard.” He weakly stated.

 

Harry looked back at Louis with a more sympathetic expression, lips formed in a tight line as he gathered the boy’s current state. He desperately wanted to hug him. “I’m so sorry, Lou. I tried to call you-“

 

“I know.” Louis within an instant cut him off, smile vanishing from his fine lips as the elder’s gaze dropped to the ground, mindless swishing the alcohol in his bottle around. “M’didn’t want to talk about it.” He admitted, glancing at the wall – avoiding Harry’s gaze.

 

Harry frowned deeply, staring back at Louis with a serious expression, every inch of his body suddenly feeling numb. It wasn’t right, no boy should have to lose his mother. No boy, especially Louis. Jay was an incredible person, and she reflected those values and kind characteristics to Louis. They were a team, and he lost his sidekick.

 

“Louis, I’m _so_ sorry,” Harry whispered, shaking his head slowly as his brows furrowed with sympathy.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Louis whispered back brokenly, bottom lip seeming to wobble slightly. Harry could tell he was holding back the urge to cry, and it wasn’t mentally healthy. Not even the littlest bit. It was painful to see him in such a state.

 

“Keeping it to yourself isn’t going to help Lou, we are all here to help you,” Harry assured quietly, his voice appearing more hopeful and sympathetic.

 

“I didn’t want it… I-I…”

 

Harry’s face fell, feeling absolute confusion. It didn’t make sense.

 

“I _wanted_ to help. You know I wanted to help since the beginning Lou..”

 

“I _know._ ”

 

“I called, I tried and now you called me.. I…”

 

“I know! Harry, fuck. I know.”

 

Harry had to sit silent after that, hearing the pain and sudden insistence in Louis’ tone. It made him jump slightly, and tears were evidently trickling down the boy’s already pale, dusted with splotchy pink coloured cheeks.

 

There was a moment of silence, Louis suddenly dropping his head into the palms of his hands. Harry couldn’t quite adjust to the image, and willingly sat up and walked over to take a seat beside Louis. Harry hesitantly extended his hand, gently resting his large hand against the lad’s back – fingers curling in slightly into the boy’s top.

 

“Why did you do this?” Harry suddenly whispered, gaze focused on the back of Louis’ ruffled, rather rugged looking head of hair.

 

Louis knew what he was talking about, and Harry knew that right away. Whether he wanted to answer it or not was the real question.

 

“ _Why?”_

“Stop.”

 

“Louis, _talk_ to me! Bloody hell, this isn’t going to help if you sit here and hold everything in, I’m here to listen to you, I’m here to-“

 

“Harry! Fuck, j-just, _please,”_ Louis begged, a shaky, silent sob following as his body racked out the emotional breaths – his back hunched in such a breaking, weak posture.

Harry was lost now. He had no bloody idea what to do and he certainly did not mean to push the boy over the edge this way. But – it didn’t mean it was okay for Louis to hold it in. He quite honestly acted as though he was tough, like nothing could touch him. But Harry knew him. He knew those late nights where they would sit inside their flat back in 2011, where Louis would be a crying mess (or Harry) and they would confess all their problems. Why wasn’t that happening again? It was hard, it was really damn hard.

 

Carefully, Harry reached a hand over to Louis’ knee, giving it a gentle squeeze as his own eyes fogged up with tears, eye brows scrunched together with concern. “We are all worried about you.” He stated quietly, biting his wobbling bottom lip. “Why did you do it? Why are you still with beards, Lou? What is with these PR stunts?” He asked hesitantly, face screaming concern and immense desire for truth.

 

“B-because I still have to, Harry.” Louis forced out, not daring to meet eyes with the other latter in the room.

 

“Why?” He asked again, this time with more exhaustion. Bloody hell.

 

“I can’t.. listen, Harry. You’ve got to stop with this shit. Stop asking questions.” He spat out, voice wavering.

 

“Why do you want me here, Louis? Fuck, you know what, you’ve treated me like a bloody stranger these past few years and you invite me over to what? To fucking ignore me? I-“

 

“Because I fucking need you! Dammit.” There, right there, Louis broke. He dropped his face into the palms of his hands and what sounded like repetitive sobs broke through his body so quickly and Harry, well. Fuck. It wasn’t at all what he expected.

 

“I’m here.” Harry whispered, pursing his lips to avoid crying as he slowly brought his arm around Louis’ shaking shoulders, ducking his head down with a shaky sigh. There were answers. Answers he needed.

 

It was quiet. Silence being the only voice in the dead room as the pair sat there, for what felt like a good half hour. It was longing. Harry wasn’t delusional – he knew there was certainly more than one reason just to why Louis invited him over. Truth was sometimes deadly to people, and it took a lot to get such a voice out.

 

Harrys gaze wandered over to Louis posture, the older boy still sitting with his face in his petite hands – evidently losing a lot more weight than what Harry had previously seen. Which was a lot.

 

Then, finally, he slowly raised his head. A bloodshot, exhausted pair of blue eyes bored back at his own, and Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. The sight was heartbreaking. But, what followed was even more heartbreaking – and the least expected.

 

“I lied to you.”


	3. Louis lied. Simon is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those kinda pointless but still necessary chapters... oops! The series will get more interesting now onwards I'm sure! I hope you're all enjoying it! My twitter is @pinkteaharry xx I love new mutuals!

He lied. Louis, he lied.

 

For some reason, this fact didn’t fathom Harry in a way that it should have. It didn’t surprise him. Because he knew, he just knew what he meant by saying he lied.

 

Louis loved him?

 

Harry’s gaze fixated closely on Louis, the lump in his throat growing as he became more desperate to know what exactly Louis was meaning. The courage in his heart was diminishing, so he kept quiet, awaiting for the older of the two to speak up.

 

Louis wasn’t making eye contact, his glossy eyes focused intently on the coffee table that was placed before them, slowly shaking his head to himself as he clutched the beer bottle in his hand tighter.

 

“I lied that day. That day you said you loved me.”

 

Ding. That’s exactly what Harry was waiting for. But for some reason, it didn’t hit him as hard as he wanted it to. He was expecting some joy, relief. But instead, anger, confusion, so much emotion fled him instead.

 

“What did you lie about?” Harry asked hesitantly, voice quiet, appearing more emotionless than what it previously was.

 

“I lied about what I said. I didn’t mean… I.. I’m lost, Harry. I don’t know what I feel. What is right, what is wrong… like, all this time I feel as though I’ve turned into the complete opposite of who I wanted to be.” Louis admitted, voice quiet as he fell back against the sofa, slumping back against the material.

 

It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know that he became something that was the polar opposite of what Harry ever assumed, but this, hearing him admit it, was different.

 

“I’m not you.” Louis suddenly said, facing Harry now with a bland expression, jaw clenching and unclenching. “I’m not as open, as…. Fuck. Look at you. You’ve always been the bloody opposite. You told me about your feelings, when really, Harry, I don’t know the answer. I was angry. I felt as though you were forcing these romantic feelings against me.”

 

Harry’s face scrunched up with confusion, stomach doing back flips with the urge to just lash out. ‘Forcing these romantic feelings against me’, what the hell did that mean?

 

“You felt those feelings yourself. Don’t bloody blame me for that.” Harry stated, gaze still drawn intently on the smaller lad before him. “I think you’re scared of who you really were. My feelings never changed…”

 

Louis looked away again, scoffing out what sounded like a laugh of defeat, placing his feet up on the coffee table as he absentmindedly swished the alcoholic contents around in the beer bottle. “I don’t know what I felt. Maybe I felt that way because I needed someone. I think you were too immersed in what the fans were saying about us. It’s romanticized, idealized.”

 

“Stop fucking saying that.” Harry stated more bitterly, straightening his sitting posture slightly, causing Louis to look back at him. “That wasn’t how this was. I-I… I wasn’t just ‘immersed’ in what the fans were saying. Fuck, I loved you, Louis. Maybe unlike you, I bloody knew how I was feeling, I wasn’t afraid to feel what I was feeling. I didn’t bloody think you or the fans were forcing these feelings on me..”

 

Louis shook his head, tearing his gaze away again, unable to keep a straight gaze with the boy. “You said yourself, you lied about what you said that day, why aren’t you telling the truth?” Harry insisted, pressing his hand against the cushion with persistence.

 

“Fuck, Harry!” Louis snapped, gaze flickering back to the boy as he suddenly stood up from the sofa. “Because I don’t know! I don’t, okay?”

 

“You don’t know what? That you’re gay?” Harry insisted, gaze never leaving the elder’s face that immediately flushed a pale, milky white with rather horror at the words. Harry’s face relaxed at that, finally looking down as he slowly shook his head. “I think you need to help yourself, Louis.”

 

“You don’t know what I need. I’m fine.” Louis replied with a fierce, piercing tone, voice cracking slightly at the last word.

 

Harry sat up, shaking his head with disappointment as he trotted towards the doorway, immediately reaching for his boots to begin putting them on. “I don’t have time for this, Louis. I can’t do this anymore. Bloody tell me already so I don’t have to keep hurting over this.” Harry stated, voice wavering as he eagerly slipped on the rather dirty Chelsea boots.

 

Louis watched, gaze flickering over Harry with what looked like worry, a lost expression flushing his features. “Harry, I told you, I don’t know, I..”

 

“Then figure it out.” Harry murmured, and without another word, he left Louis’ flat with anger – gaze focused on his feet as he resisted the urge to cry. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t put up with this bloody ‘I don’t know’ shit. He put up with it for too long. Everything with Louis since 2012 felt like an endless ‘…’. There was always something to follow, but it was never there. It was endless circles that they kept wandering around in, answers at the end. That was the funny part though, there is no end in a circle.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

It was four months since Louis and Harry spoke last. Spring was blooming in London and Harry was at last releasing his new single.

 

Choosing ‘Sign of The Times’ for his first single was a no brainer. The thing about that song, was that it wasn’t just the most realistic, but it was also the one he reminisced with the most. Coincidentally (or not) it was about Louis. It was personal, honest, and more of a dream than anything. What he wanted to do. Perhaps it was too idealistic.

 

Louis seemed to never bother texting again, which was ridiculous but rather expected from Harry, if he was being honest. He knew Louis. This, this was typical. Especially after their last conversation.

 

Gratefully, the other boys were very supportive. After the release of Sign of The Times, Niall and Liam were quick to text him very sweet messages, congratulating him on the release, and a note that they should meet up sometime soon. They were all busy, but Harry was more than willing to set aside time for the lads, even if they just wanted to come over.

 

But, well…. Except for one.

 

Louis.

 

Not a next, not a congratulations, no nothing. Expected, again, but sad.

 

Times were different. In Harry’s mind, it was just an old school love. The only catch was – Harry was the only lover. Apparently. But again, apparently he ‘lied’. The mere word made Harry roll his eyes to the back of his head.

 

Harry was in New York that week for his SNL performance, which was insanely exciting, but also nerve wrecking. Not once did he perform solo since before the x-factor, which was intimidating with a song as powerful and as meaningful as Sign of The Times. Live. Worldwide. Yikes.

 

It was currently a good twenty-minutes before his performance, and to say the least, Harry was bloody terrified.

 

His band was excited, pumped to get out and play, but yeah – Harry was terrified.

 

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

 

Harry’s hand eagerly reached to his brown, plaid blazer pocket for his phone, retrieving device and immediately expected a ‘good luck!’ from his mum. But it wasn’t. Not even close.

 

‘Good luck, Harry… give me a call when you’re back in London, yeah? Thanks..’ sent by none other, Louis Tomlinson.

 

Harry’s face immediately scrunched up at the message, suddenly caught up in the mere thought that bloody Louis had the nerve to text him before the performance. What was this? What was he trying to do? Aggression flushing through his veins, Harry immediately pocketed the device and shook out any nerves in his hands. ‘give me a call’. Harry scoffed out a sarcastic laugh at that, receiving a confused glance from one of the sound men working on his sound cancelling devices whom he gave a small smile to.

 

It was going to be a long trip back to London.

 

 

 

-

 

 

When Harry got back, it was tempting to even think about calling Louis. Not after their last visit. Harry didn’t like to hold grudges, nor did he enjoy staying mad at people – but Louis. That was a different story. Accusing him of forcing romantic feelings against him..   

 

But, he did call. Because Harry felt he was too good of a person not to, and, well.. he loved him. As sad and rather heartbreaking it was to admit. But feeling such as love wasn’t so easy to shuffle aside for the rest of your life and admit you’re fine.

 

Harry sighed, currently seated on his sofa back in London where he was wearing some Nike shorts and that same damn grey hoodie he practically wore daily (it was comfy, he couldn’t just not wear it) and clutching his phone – staring at it, contemplating when to hit the call button. It was a weary, tentative process for some reason, but he gave in. And he pressed the call button.

 

Within an instant, the phone picked up on the other line and it was Louis’ voice, heavy and distraught. Harry’s brows furrowed at the heavy breathing, but he cleared his throat – fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “Hello?”

 

“Hey, Harry. How are you?”

 

Harry nearly laughed, but he didn’t. “I’m fine, yeah. Thanks. And yourself?”

 

“Good.” Louis’ answer was simple, to the point. And then a moment of silence passed. Harry felt anxious waiting on the other line, staring at the wall with a ‘so?’ expression despite the latter on the other line unable to see him.

 

“Harry, I… I’m sorry to bug you, and stuff. But… Simon wants to meet with you.”

 

Harry’s face immediately fell, his posture straightening as his gaze became more harsh, now glaring at the wall before him. “What?”

 

Louis sighed on the other line, it sounding as though he was shuffling around on the sofa of some sort. “Simon doesn’t have your number. He… He wants to talk, about the band.. And, like, PR shit.” Louis explained quietly, voice quiet and drained.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Harry snapped, stressfully planting his forehead into the palm of his hand that was propped up by his elbow on the edge of the sofa – suddenly feeling extremely stressed. Bloody hell.

 

“No, Haz. Okay? Just.. I’ll text his number, I just wanted to warn you..”

 

“Are you going to be there?”

 

“No.. Why would I?” Louis muttered quietly.

 

Harry was quiet for a moment, now staring down emotionless at the blanket that pooled at his waist.

 

“Why are we doing this shit separately now? Why don’t we all just have group interviews?”

 

“We can’t be spotted in public. I don’t want rumours.” Louis stated quietly.

 

“Right, I forgot. Can’t feed into the lies, now can we?”

 

Louis was quiet for another moment, and Harry could practically see the eye roll the older boy was giving him from over the phone.

 

“I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight.” Louis mumbled before the line went dead.

 

Harry sat there with the phone to his ear despite the line being abandoned, and kept picked absentmindedly at the hem of the blanket, lips pursed in deep thought. Then, his phone buzzed, distracting him from his spaced out state.

 

Louis texted Simon’s number and Harry genuinely didn’t want to get into it. Not at all. But, he dialed the number, and mentally prepared himself for news that was sure to wreck everything all over again.

 

 

 

 


	4. Minutes felt like hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! I've been in a writing drought (which is awful) but I'm glad to be writing again! I'll be uploading more now. This fic may seem a little all over the place, but I promise it'll become more steady! Especially after this chapter. I gotta get these things settled before the real stuff starts. Anyways, if you would like to talk or follow me, my twitter is @pinkteaharry !! I'm always willing to chat. :)

Minutes felt like hours.

 

Harry was currently in the waiting room at the SYCO building in London, propped rather tensed in his seat as his gaze was pondering off into space as the soft sound of pop music played from the speakers in every corner of the room.

 

Nice.

 

He was anxious. Why the heck would Simon, out of all people, want to even speak with him? It was baffling. Truly.

 

Most confusing of it all was – why did Louis find the need to call him about this? He would have been perfectly content with Simon just calling him. Or his assistant, whoever the fuck ran the place.

 

“Ah, Harold.” An all too familiar voice suddenly interrupted the mere silence, causing Harry’s head to immediately fly up from its hunched position.

 

Simon Cowell.

 

Nice.

 

Sitting up, Harry quickly dusted off any dirt particles from his dress pants, his suit today being a dark, velvet green colour, fitting his long figure rather nicely.

 

“Simon.” Harry greeted rather blandly, however still extending his hand to shake the man’s hand formally.

 

“Looking better, yeah? Been awhile since I’ve last seen you.” Simon smiled almost bitterly, sending a whirlwind of chills down Harry’s spine.

 

“Been awhile, yeah.” Harry murmured, not even wanting to recall the last talk they had.

 

It was awful, and pretty much consisted of a twenty-two year old Harry in tears, broken, angry, /done/. He was truly done.

 

The stress on top of all that happened between himself and Louis, including all the hectic lies and schedule followed with one direction, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was emotional, and it almost seemed as if Simon took advantage of his vulnerable state to manipulate him into signing a solo contract and pressing him further into being separated from the boys.

 

But that is a story for another day.

 

“Follow me.” Simon hummed, casually leading Harry into his office that seemed to never move. Fifth floor, second door down. Number 28.

 

Ironic.

 

Once inside, Harry took a seat at one of the plush, spinny black chairs that were first seated before the desk, and Simon, as per usual, walked behind the desk into a much more plushy spinny black chair. Classy.

 

“Now, I’ve already spoken with Louis and all.” Simon started, reaching for his mug and taking a short sip from the nearly overflowing tea just dancing at the rim of the ceramic.

 

“About what?” Harry immediately asked, sitting almost as an impatient child in the seat, bouncing his leg impatiently.

 

“About signing another contract with Eleanor.” Simon stated, arching a brow. “Has he not spoken to you?”

 

“No?” Harry suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening with shock. No., No, no, no-

 

“Yes? He did last week.”

 

Louis called last week. Harry fumed more.

 

“Why do you need to talk to me?” Harry snapped, baffled.

 

“Because it’s a joined contract, Harry. That neither of you can mention, nor talk about this whole, ‘Larry Stylinson’ shit anymore. Your fans… it’s crazed, Harry. It needs to end. It is only going to ruin both of your images further.”

 

“Ruin what? Giving Louis another girlfriend and a fake, sad excuse of a child is going to fix things?”

 

“Harry, Listen..”

 

“No! I’m.. I don’t understand, honestly. This, all of this, isn’t going to help not even the least bit. I’m not signing another contract… that’s just,”

 

“Harry, I’m not really giving you a choice.” Simon laughed casually, suddenly pushing the piece of paper further. “If you boys want to keep One Direction, I’d best do what you know is right.”

 

Harry’s gaze flickered down to the contract before back up at Simon, an immediate glare coating his fierce, emerald eyes. Shakily, Harry reached out to lift the pen up from the desk, clicking it on with his thumb before huffing out a short breath that partially sounding like a laugh.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“As always.” Simon smiled. A cruel, sadistic smile.

 

With that, Harry scribbled down his name and aggressively pushed his chair back to abruptly stand up from his seat.

 

“You should read through-“

 

“I already know.” Harry interrupted before simply storming out of the office.

 

This was about to be handled a lot differently than he usually would. The last bullet was shot, and this time, it hit harder than it usually did. It killed him, in a different way.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

Yes, Harry was currently driving down the freeway with his windows rolled fully down and The Rolling Stones blasting through his rather old speakers – pink, satin button up shirt half un-done with his obnoxious black sunglasses on. This, this was what he needed.

 

And Louis was just about to get a full face of it.

 

A good forty minutes later, Harry was back to driving up the curving pathway to Louis’ flat in London, except this time – he wasn’t hiding the fact he was there. The music was loud, his hair was freshly chopped and yes. He didn’t even bother waiting for the gates to open.

 

Harry unbuckled his seatbelt and turned off his car, suddenly getting out of the vehicle before walking over to the buzzer machine and simply pressed his finger down on it – obnoxiously holding it down as the sound echoed through Louis’ house.

 

“The fuck!?” Louis’ voice suddenly snapped through the speakerphone on the device and boy did he sound furious. Being the way he was, Harry’s lips curved into a smug grin.

 

“Hello, Louis.” Harry spoke rather casually, finally releasing his finger from the buzzer.

 

“Harry? What the hell?” Louis snapped, his accent sticking out rather prominently when he was angry (and Harry found it incredibly adorable).

 

“We need to talk.” Harry stated, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m really done with this shit.”

 

“There isn’t anything more to talk about.” Louis’ voice snapped through the speaker again.

 

Nice.

 

“Yeah? Nothing? What about you bloody well signing another damn contract with Eleanor, Louis!?” Harry snapped back, his voice rather loud due to his already dark tone – his words echoing through the lot of Louis’ flat.

 

“That’s none of your business.”

 

“Then why does my name need to be on that contract? That makes it my business,” Harry scoffed out a short laugh.

 

“Can you just quiet the fuck down? Paps are around, Harry. Seriously. Fuck.” Louis’ voice was lowering now, the bitterness dripping from his tongue.

 

“Let me in, then. Louis, I’m done.” Harry demanded, resting his hand against the brick arch of the royal white gates surrounding his flat.

 

“Harry, are you bloody well kidding me?”

 

“No, Louis, alright? I’m done. Please, let me in so we can bloody well discuss this because I’m really done with this all!” Harry insisted, his voice merging into a peak of stress.

 

There was a moment of silence before Louis finally opened the gates – Harry deciding to simply leave his car prior to the gates as he entered them with long, furious strides.

 

As Harry approached the door, he raised his knuckle to the door but his movement was suddenly interrupted by Louis opening the door – eyes puffy, red, a glare glistening with fury in the usual lively blue pair that he remembered from what felt like years ago. “You okay?” Harry’s breath released from his crimson lips, the words flowing out with his exhale quietly.

 

“Of course I’m not you fucking idiot!” Louis suddenly snapped, snatching Harry’s wrist to tug the taller lad inside his home – Harry tumbling inside clumsily before Louis pushed him aside, slamming the door and turning around to face the boy. “I’m done, okay? I signed the damn contract again because I’m sick and tired of all the rumours, Harry.” Louis breathed, weakly putting his hands on his hips as his body naturally hunched forward. He looked exhausted.

 

Harry looked back at the boy, gaze filled with sudden emotion and immense distress – confusion evident in his expression. Harry knew the truth, and so did Louis.

 

“Why are you so afraid?” Harry breathed, eyebrows furrowing together as he suddenly started to shake his head slowly. “Why aren’t you telling me-“

 

“Please,” Louis started, taking a step forward as he gaze Harry’s arm a weak shove – the older of the pair wearing a loose white top and black Adidas track pants. “Harry.” Louis’ voice suddenly spoken in a more exhausted, worn expression. “I did it because I had to. For you, for myself. Okay? It’s over, now. It is what it is.” Louis stated, slowly walking past the boy towards the living area.

Harry slowly followed the shorter lad towards the sofa, arms still folded across his chest as he watched the latter, lips pursed momentarily as he listened to the boy speak.

 

“You’re lying to yourself.” Harry stated, gaze focused intently on the boy before him. “You don’t want this, you don’t want any of it – why are you still trying?” He laughed almost sadly after, shaking his head again.

 

“You don’t know what’s good for me, Harry. Please.” Louis muttered, eyeing the latter almost bitterly.

 

“Why did you lie?” Harry repeated again, staring back at the boy, gaze filled with towering emotion now, becoming exhausted. “You bloody well better tell me, Louis, I’m so fed up with all this shit that you keep dragging on! Fuck, /please/.”

 

Louis was looking away now, staring back at the wall past Harry almost blankly, blinking several times before surfacing back to reality – slowly reaching for his lighter and an unlit cigarette from the coffee table. Carefully, Louis set the cigarette between his thin, petal like lips and shakily brought the lighter up to the tip – flickering the flame onto the cigarette before tossing the lighter back onto the coffee table, exhaling shakily through his nostrils. Already, Harry knew the boy was getting emotional.

 

Carefully, Harry slowly walked over to take a seat down beside the boy, gaze focused closely on the lad’s shaken, emotional face. Harry took the opportunity to rest his hand onto Louis’ knee gently, eyebrows stitched together with immense concern.

 

Louis took a slow, merely painful inhale of the lit cig, removing it from between his lips to release the cloud of smoke into the four walls surrounding him – head tilting back slightly as his eyes fluttered – Harry sensing more so pain than rest.

 

“Because.” Louis whispered, that immediately sending a wave of reassurance through Harry’s body.

 

“Because why?” Harry whispered back, his gentle grip on the boy’s clad knee tightening the slightest bit.

 

“Because I loved you.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
